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Show which related how her father had cut his hand chopping wood. How her brother had fallen through the ice and was rescued. How her mother was just the same. "Everyone "Every-one loves her," wrote Jules. Then one day Marie happened to meet an artist named Tom Santos. "You are so very beautiful, I must paint you at once," declared this impulsive young man. Marie laughed at him, but it soon happened t at she posed regularly regu-larly for this brilliant painter. She liked his queer, jerky way of talking talk-ing while he worked. She felt that she was lucky to be admired by him. One day in the studio he asked about her home. Marie told him a little, rather grudgingly. "You say you were born in Beau-claire?" Beau-claire?" cried the man. "How odd!" He laid down his brushes and went to a shelf. "One of the finest wood-carvers in Quebec made this, a young man called Jules Gareau." He picked up. a small figurine and held it in his hands. Marie felt a quick trembling run all over her. "Oh," she breathed, "Jules never told me he had taken up his father's work!" "You know him then . . . this artist Jules?" "Yes," she answered stepping down from the dias where she posed. "Let me see, please." i Tom gave her the small figurine : as if it were something precious. "Look at the pose," he said, "Look at the old woman's face. Isn't she wonderful . . . and beautiful in character? I'd like to meet her." "You shall,'' murmured Marie in a low voice, and added, "I must stay away from home for years, before I discover from a stranger j how fine my mother is. Come . . . we can catch the evening train." Snow lay thick on Beaulaire that Christmas eve. Bright lights shone S B.Thomas MARIE LA FARGE was the prettiest girl in Beaulaire. Her dark eyes sparkled; her black hair framed a lovely, vivid viv-id face. It was inevitable that many young men should fall in love with her. Which they did. But chief among them was tall handsome Jules Gareau, the son of a wood-carver. Marie's mother was a small hard-working woman whose beauty differed from the girl's. Strong lines were graven on her face; and in her eyes shone clear fortitude. Madame La Farge's eyes looked steadily at everything, whether it was the snow which lay so many months about the small tight cabin, or at one of her children who had, perhaps been angry or selfish. So, 1 while Marie's face was sweet and winning, her mother's expression was full of character. It could hardly fail that Marie should grow a little arrogant under un-der the circumstances. "You are unkind to me," said Jules one day. "I have loved you always, yet you act as if it did not matter. And now you tell me you are going away from here." He waved his arm. "What is that to you?" Marie was dressed in bright jacket, full woolen skirt and high, laced boots. A red knitted cap was pulled jauntily over her curls. "How can you ask such a question ques-tion of me?" Jules reproved her. "A girl cannot stay in this simple sim-ple village forever!" "But Marie." He reached for her mittened hand. His eyes, looking down at her, were filled with beseeching be-seeching love. "We had plans to-. to-. gether, you and I. Already father has given me the land. Already I have cut the timbers for our house . . . have you forgotten?" Marie laughed goodnaturedly. "You handsome stupid . . . ! I must see a bit of the world before settling down to . . ." she nodded towards her own house where her mother stood in the door, calling to one of the children. "You see?" "Oh, ' She Breathed, "Jules Never Told Me." from the houses. The mountains were dark with purple shadows. Two figures walked along the squeaking snow. "How could you have left all this for an ugly city, Marie?" The girl answered nothing. She hurried faster and her heart beat furiously. "I cannot wait to get there," she thought. "Over there," she said aloud, "is the Gareau home, and now, here we come to our house. Hurry, hurry!" They pushed through the gate; they entered the house without knocking. A huge fire blazed on the hearth. Singing and dancing filled the low-ceilinged room. Marie pulled her friend towards a slight figure sitting in a chair. "This is my mother," she said. At once the room was in an uproar. up-roar. People flocked about the new guests, all talking together, kissing Marie, laughing and shouting. But Tom Santos bent low over Madame La Farge's hand. "I'm proud and happy to know you. Yes " looking at her critically, "Gareau is a genius." Marie with a new light and radiance radi-ance about her next pulled him to a tall young man standing by the fire. "And this is Jules," she explained ex-plained simply. "Jules Gareau." The two men shook hands. "Please, please, all of you," she cried, "be quiet!" The room fell into silence. "I have been away a long while," began the girl, "But I am home again. I have neglected you all, but chiefly my family. But now, on Christmas eve, I come to my senses . . . and you!" Her lovely smile encircled them all. "Mother, the figurine which Jules carved of you, brought me back. I could not wait, for then I knew how I'd missed you." A murmur of pleasure ran about the room. "Jules," her voice faltered, blushes rose in her cheeks, "are you still . . .?" She could not finish. fin-ish. The tall handsome young man, as if in a dream, strode close to her. "No, Marie, I'm not married. I've waited so long for you." And then uproar rose again. They danced. They feasted. And Marie sat close to her mother, and looked and looked at that kind, strong, forgiving for-giving face. And all the children fell asleep and were waked up again, and Marie' Ma-rie' father roared with laughter. Thus Marie La Farge came back to the village of Beaulaire . . . and Jules. Western Newspaper Union. "We Had Plans Together, You and I," He Said. said Marie, "she's worn out with work. She's old before her time. She wears old clothes and thinks old thoughts ... It cannot be otherwise, here in Beaulaire." "Your mother," replied Jules sternly, "has the most truly beautiful beauti-ful face in the village. My father says so." Marie raised her long lashes in surprise, and shrugged her shoulders. shoul-ders. A week before Christmas the girl left the village. "I have a position. During the holidays extra girls are needed in the stores. Soon , I shall have money of my own. : Soon I shall dance and go places with many fine people." "So that is what you are thinking," think-ing," said her mother. But she added no words of advice or reprimand. repri-mand. "Don't forget us, child. Think of us at Christmas with the white snow about us, and the green spruces on the hills. Think of your father in the woods, chopping. Think of me cooking, and mending mend-ing and singing to the baby . . . and nothing shall go wrong with you. Come home when It seems best. We love you." But Jules was silent and heartbroken. heart-broken. "You'll never be the same to me, Marie, again. Your head will be filled with idle notions. And to think you can go and leave us at Christmas!" But Marie went. And if they missed her sadly in the village where she was born, she worked hard. And because of her energy and lovely face, she was kept on In her position after the holidays. She sent presents home but she did not go there. She liked her new life. One year. Two years. For one reason or another she never found time to visit her people. She was doing well. She was thrifty. She went about with this or that admiring admir-ing escort. And she smothered the occasional pangs of hqmesickness in her heart. Five years away. Now and then ihe heard from Jules, short letters |
